Into Reality
by Onyx Fire
Summary: The short and choppy story of an Irish immigrant brought to America through a bardered marriage. (in progress)
1. Welcome

Mmkay, folks. As this is my first attempt at FF.net glory, don't yell at me because I suck at the technicalities of this. I can't get my italics to work, everything is all funky and choppy... I understand all of these things. *smiles* And I am sorry. Help is greatly appreciated, as are reviews, questions and just general kind words. Thanks.  
  
~*~And just so you know what you're getting in to:~*~  
  
T i t l e: Into Reality (pending)  
  
A u t h o r: Onyx / Onyx Fire / Daze  
  
R a t i n g s: We've conclusively stuck it at PG-13 from some vulgar language and a few mild violent implications.  
  
S y n o p s i s: Taryn Locksly-Ravensdale, a poor Irish Immigrant married into a high lifestyle, deals with the trials and tribulations of having a mean-spirited, controlling, violent and distant husband who forbids childbirth, while she is pregnant. Implied "forced sex", and emotional abuse (nothing graphic at all) and mild adult language.  
  
M o v i e C h a r a c t e r s i n c l u d e d: None  
  
O r i g i n a l C h a r a c t e r s i n v o l v e d: Taryn Locksly-Ravensdale, Adair Ravensdale, Estell Williams, Victor Milosovich, Nichola McKinny and Jaden Locksly (both as infants). All created and owned by Onyx. 


	2. Part 1

~*~*~*~  
  
"Get rid of it."   
  
  
  
The voice rang in her ears, but she couldn't believe the words it formed. Her vision blurred, her temples were pounding... Was it a possibility that she wasn't awake? Dreaming. She had to be dreaming.  
  
Again came the voice, roaring like thunder. "Do you understand?! I said get rid of it! I will not permit a child between these walls!" He pulled her head back by the flaming red curls at the nape of her neck. "Do I make myself clear?" The man spoke as if there were sand in his throat.   
  
She said nothing, made no move to acknowledge him. One of many lessons learned to her over the years, was that silence was her best and strongest weapon, and she used this ploy wisely in matters dealing with her husband. He gave her one last cold, hard stare, before releasing her hair. Then to her great relief, he turned, and left the house. She took a moment to praise the gods for his departure, before to vomiting once more into the basin she was kneeling in front of.  
  
"A woman can die from such a man!" she exclaimed as she cleaned her self up. "The dishes, Taryn! The laundry, Taryn! Rub my blasted feet, Taryn!" Her lilting accent sharpened with her rising resentment. A dish towel was thrown angrily in the sink. The young woman took a deep breath and put her hands on her hips, blowing a stray curl out of her face. Her right hand grazed her over her stomach, followed by her eyes. "We'll figure out somethin' right, kid?"  
  
Two years ago her hopes would not have been so bright. A girl of sixteen, she had resided with her parents and several younger brothers and sisters, in a small, and indigent village in Ireland. Adair had looked so much younger then. A youthful and charming man buying land off of the villagers, he had set his dark eyes upon Tayrn and become obsessed with the idea of taking her home to America with him. She vehemently fought him off with her fierce and witty tongue, but in the end, he offered to make her entire family financially secure, as long as she would marry him. Though disgusted with this idea, the security and well being of her family was of far greater importance to her, and she rancorously consented to the loveless legal binding.   
  
He was a wretched man, for the most part, treating his wife as if she mattered less to him than the whorish courtesans he would have on the side, but still he presented her beautiful living conditions -- that is to say, when he himself wasn't a part of them -- and he kept her family alive. Taryn was grateful for that.   
  
  
  
Several days following his rash behavior in regards to his unborn child, upon returning home from the market down the street, Taryn found Adair in their room, packing his things into a large, shiny suitcase. His face seemed worn and tired in comparison to how she remembered it. She moved quietly toward the door.   
  
"Where do you think you're goin'?" She inquired softly, but forcefully.   
  
"Away." he said, shortly.   
  
"Fer how long, then?"   
  
"I don't know."   
  
The latch on the suitcase made a loud clicking sound as he closed it. He swung to face her, his face suddenly turning a pale shade of purple, and a fat finger pointed menacingly in her direction. "But if you still have that thing inside you when I return, you're finished. I can promise you that." he adjusted his tie, grabbed his bags, and stormed out the oak door, slamming it with such force that the glass rattled.   
  
Although somewhat shaken by his last remark, Taryn wasn't the least bit worried about his leaving. She knew he would be back in a week or two, as he always was, and was certain there must be enough money hidden in the cellar to last until then. All she could do was sigh, thankful for the peace and quiet, and then effortlessly proceed to fall asleep on the daybed. 


	3. Part 2

~*~*~*~  
  
Two weeks crept by, then three, and four. Eventually, seven weeks had passed, and Taryn's belly was beginning to grow slightly rounder and firm, and though this brought her great delight, she could not help but wonder what she was going to do with the child. "Getting rid of it" as Adair so abhorrently commanded, had not once crossed her mind as an option. She was in no way willing to risk her own life, thus risking the lives of her entire family back home --for without her, surely Adair would have no pity for them-- simply to kill one of her own. She would deliver the child. How, was the only remaining question.   
  
  
  
  
  
The teapot whistled, signifying the water's readiness to be removed from the stove. Taryn rose from her seat at the kitchen table, arching her back a bit to stretch it out, and prepared herself a steaming cup of tea. Taking a sip of it, she noticed the calendar, hanging almost debatably crooked on the wall. Her eyes flitted across it. Could it really be that late in the month? A soft sigh escaped her lips. "Where's your da, little one?"   
  
  
  
She had taken to the habit of slipping in to a fantasy world on occasion, where Adair was her literal night in shining armor, and had saved she and her family from the terrors that were predominant back home. She would pretend that he loved her dearly, as well as his rapidly developing baby-to-be. However, pretend was all that it was; a watercolor painting of falsities, and too soon would they always be doused with water, and fade back in to reality.  
  
  
  
There was no way of knowing where her husband was, or when he would return. She would just have to hope and pray that some sort of miracle would bestow itself upon her. Lost in the worrisome thoughts, Taryn didn't hear the door at first, but then it came again, a small knocking. Taryn furrowed her brow in wonder... they never had company...   
  
"Whoever could that be?" She said aloud, as she made her way to the front door. She opened it carefully, slowly... and was very much relieved to see Mrs. Williams, the elderly widow that lived in the house next door, smiling pleasantly up at her.  
  
"I'm sorry if I startled you, dear." She smiled once more. "But that silly old mail boy got mixed up again. I believe this belongs to you?" She held out a wrinkled envelope addressed to 'Mrs. Adair Ravensdale' in faded blue ink.   
  
Taryn took the letter in her hand, her eyes darting to the postmark, which labeled this letter as coming from Ireland. Home. Her heart fluttered as she thanked the kind old woman and closed the door. She turned the worn envelope over in her hands, and held it up to the light, biting her lip. Family? But they would never address a letter in such a way. She glanced once again at the front of the letter. No return address. Odd. Almost afraid to open it, fearful that it might bring bad news from home, Taryn went into her husband's office and picked up the beautiful letter opener he had purchased somewhere in Europe. After examining the outside of the letter as much as possible, she painstakingly ran the ivory opener under the top edge of the envelope, pulled out the folded paper inside, and carefully read.  
  
  
  
iI am on an order of business. I shall be returning sometime in April.   
  
There is much that needs to be attended to here. I have enclosed the information for you to get money out of the bank, only should you need it.   
  
Adair/i  
  
Tears sprung to Taryn's eyes as she read his cold, distant words. God had answered her prayers. She had been sent a miracle.  
  
~*~*~*~ 


	4. Part 3

~*~*~*~  
  
Nichola Aisling Ravensdale first opened her tiny little eyes on a chilly February morning, as the sun began to peek around the buildings and through the lace curtains of the Ravensdale windows. Nearly a month premature, she was lacking in size, however was for the most part healthy, and even had quite a mess of dark hair already on her head.  
  
  
  
"A Survivor!" The doctor had said and smiled warmly. "Like her mother."  
  
Taryn laughed. Her fiery spirit had returned in full during passing months without her husband. She felt whole again. Even now, so close to Adair's supposed return, everything was right in her small world.   
  
The days were passing all too soon. Not having to work, Taryn was able to spend every moment with her daughter. Days were spent at the market and lounging around the house, and evenings were set aside for reading, playing, laughing and learning. Adair, was almost a fading memory, lost among so many of the past. In Taryn's eyes, Nichola was all there was in the world; the revitalizing hope in a place so dark and cold.  
  
  
  
Taryn kicked a stone out of her way, before bending over to retrieve the stuffed cat that Nichola had once again tossed over the side of the buggy.  
  
  
  
"Well do ya want it, or don't ya?" she raised her thin eyebrows at the child, who stared almost blankly back up at her. "Well, do ya?" The black kitten was waved temptingly in the young woman's hand, and the baby extended her arm, making a fist and then stretching it out again. Taryn's lips parted in a radiant smile.  
  
"Ya want it back?"   
  
Nichola just giggled and grabbed for the animal. Her mother sighed and tossed it back inside the stroller, and they continued merrily on their way home.   
  
"Taryn! Oh Taryn, dear!" Mrs. Williams stood smiling, out on her porch, waving her hand to get the young mother's attention.  
  
"Good mornin' to ya, Mrs. Williams!" Taryn beamed and approached the house.  
  
"Oh Taryn, darling, he's back!" The elder woman exclaimed excitedly.  
  
Taryn furrowed her brow and rocked back on her heels. "Who's back, Mrs. Williams?"  
  
The woman laughed heartily. "Why, that lovely looking man you live with, dear!"  
  
The blood drained from Taryn's face. Her hands began to tremble, and she gripped the buggy to steady them. Darkness closed in around her. Adair? But he couldn't be home... he wasn't due back for at least another month! Terror ate it's way through her skin, past her heart and in to her very soul.   
  
Seeing the look spreading on Taryn's thin face, the elderly woman on the porch let her expression fall from it's joyous smile to a very concerned frown. She took a reluctant step forward. "Is everything alright?"   
  
It was as if time stood still. Taryn looked down and noticed the sun dancing on the cobblestone street. The old woman's words echoed in her ears. She felt as if she was suspended underwater... her eyes grazed over the skyline, and she found herself blinking rapidly as her gaze fell upon the sun itself. The cold feel of the buggy handle became suddenly noticeable in her clammy palm.  
  
The baby cooed.  
  
Reality hit Taryn like a speeding train. Time swept past her, a woosh of color, and the silence screamed in her head. Her eyes snapped upward, meeting the other woman's, as she braced her knees to keep them from going out on her.  
  
"Please," Even through a single word her voice faltered, seething desperation. "Please, you've got to take Nichola."  
  
Mrs. Williams opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing. She eyed the young woman standing before her warily. How, after so many pleasant greeting and kind words, this girl could appear so desperate and frightened, she did not understand, however the anxiety in her eyes was saying it all. There was a pause, in which Mrs. Williams jaw shook slightly, and then she ushered Taryn toward her.   
  
  
  
"Well come on then, dear, let's get you inside..."   
  
"Oh, dear, sweet, Jesus." Taryn muttered as she let out a long awaited breath. She hurried the buggy up the steps and into the gracious woman's home. "It'll only be for a bit, I swear it on my grand da's grave, Mrs. Williams, I'll repay ya in any way I can, I... I..." she bit her lip. "Where is 'e now?" she asked, as calmly as she could manage. She needed to figure out how much time there was to make everything appear as it had when Adair had left.   
  
"Actually, we didn't speak, so I'm not quite sure, really..." her face appeared genuinely apologetic.   
  
Taryn was on automatic pilot. Red curls bounced around her shoulders as she shook her head. "Not much time." She thanked Mrs. Williams once again and dashed out of the house, heading next door to her own. With growing determination, she raced up front the steps only to find the door locked, and the key she usually hid under the mat vanished.   
  
  
  
"Bloody bastard!" Taryn shrieked, taking in breath after indignant breath. Her thoughts were frantic, having no idea what to do. He had undoubtedly been inside the house. "Please, God." she crossed herself, praying allowed. "Please let him not have seen anything..." Her mind was racing. She had to get inside. A window! Somewhere there must be a window she could get through... Hastily, she scoured the entire outside of her home, spotting finally a ground level window that she could probably climb through. The question now, was how to get it open. Her grey-blue eyes flitted about, in search of something to pry it with.  
  
"Shit!"  
  
Nothing. There was absolutely nothing. As well as absolutely no time. Adair would be home any moment now. All would be lost. Her family would perish. Taryn dared not think of he might do to she and her child. It was all over. Everything.   
  
  
  
Before even registering her actions, Taryn tore a piece of siding from the exterior wall.   
  
"I will not let you ruin me..." she grumbled while fiercely prying the window open. Finally, it budged. The fire blazed in Tayrn's eyes. Nothing could stop her now. She would win this battle, oh yes.  
  
~*~*~*~ 


	5. Part 4

~*~*~*~  
  
"However will I repay you? You've no idea the grace you've provided us with..." Taryn's eyes glistened with tears threatening to spill over, and her pale arms clutched Nichola firmly.   
  
Mrs. Williams patted Tayrn's shoulder and offered her a hot cup of English tea. "Never mind that, dear. You said he's gone? Are you sure?"  
  
The young mother closed her eyes and nodded once. "'E's gone. Back to Ireland." she swallowed hard, absentmindedly petting her daughters curls. Salt water welled in her eyes, as her grip on Nichola tightened a bit.   
  
"Why ever would he..." Mrs. Williams closed her mouth, as she had decided it was of no importance to ask about Adair's abnormally brief visit. The point was that he was gone. "You're going to be alright, then?"   
  
Taryn's face brightened only for a moment when she smiled. "For now, yes. Thank you so much for your help..."  
  
An elegant hand waved the thanks aside. "Now now, don't you fret. We had fun, didn't we?" she rose to her feet and stepped forward, tapping a finger on the child's nose.   
  
Nichola grinned as Taryn pushed to her feet.  
  
"Anything you need, dear, you know right where to look." Mrs Williams offered her warm smile once more as the baby was settled into the small buggy. "And do stop by for tea, should you get lonely in that enormous house all by yourself. I would very much love the company."   
  
"Thank you, Mrs. Williams. For everything." Taryn weakly smiled again, and started toward the door.  
  
"Oh, please, call me Estell."   
  
For the first time in days, Taryn could feel warmth reach through to her heart. She turned slowly to face her neighbor and smiled. "Estell."  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~ 


	6. Part 5

~*~*~*~  
  
The weekly visits to Estell's house were the times that Taryn looked forward to the most. They played cards while Nichola crawled about on the floor, amusing herself with this and that. Sometimes they would sit in the parlor drinking tea, and Estell would tell stories about her past, her late husband, and all their travels.   
  
"To Spring!"   
  
"Yes, to Spring!"   
  
There was a clinking of teacups, and several moments of girlish laughter.   
  
"It's lovely out here." Taryn smiled. Estell had planted a fabulous garden in the back of her home, and on this particular day they had decided to drink their afternoon tea in the courtyard, amongst the blooming flowers and the faint chirping of birds.   
  
Estell allowed herself a modest smile, and nodded in thanks for the compliment. Taryn marveled at the way she lifted her cup to her lips, tilting it ever so slightly toward her mouth. She was sometimes embarrassed at her own lack of elegance, but Mrs. Williams never seemed to mind.   
  
Taryn cleared her throat. "Umm..." she stammerd a bit, trying to find the words. "I'm in a bit of a bind."   
  
Estell looked immediately alarmed. "Is it money? I've got more that I'll ever be able to use, dear, never be afraid to ask–" She cut off as Taryn shook her head.  
  
"No, no it isn't that..." a smile parted her lips. "I... I'm havin' another baby." The edges of her cheekbones turned scarlet, and she averted her eyes, which fell upon Nichola, crawling after a butterfly in the grass.  
  
"Oh…" Lines of worry were appearing on Estelle's forehead. "Oh my…"  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Adair would be furious. There was no getting around it, the man would far surpass losing one's temper. Taryn's dreams were laced with nightmares; horrible, terror-filled nightmares, where Adair would finally lose the entirety of his self control. He'd been angry in the past, yes. But never before had Taryn see him fully lose control, and this, is what she feared more than anything else in the world.   
  
For the following eight months, Taryn Locksly's nights would end in screams and cold, violent shaking. She would force her weary eyes open and pull her weakened body out of bed to check on Nichola, realizing just as she had the morning before that everything was still the same. And every day, she would come closer to believing that something else, was about to change.   
  
~*~*~*~ 


	7. Part 6

~*~*~*~  
  
On June 11th, Estell Williams joined her husband in the neighborhood cemetary. Taryn attended the funeral, of course, being the old woman's closest friend as of late. Nichola was brought along as well, wrapped in blankets and behaving very appropriately in her buggy. Mother and daughter stood off to the side, mother openly weeping behind her lace veil. They had all known this day was fast approaching; Estell was at least eighty years old, but Taryn was devastated still. She had lost her only friend, her only support, and her only hope.   
  
"Ms. Locksly, I presume?"   
  
Taryn looked up from the ground, bewildered and lost. The service was over, and anyone previously in attendance was slowly making their way to their respective homes. She and Nichola were the only ones left standing there, aside from the short, stubby little man who was now speaking, apparently to mother and child.   
  
Taryn blinked. "Yes?" Odd that he reffered to her by her maiden name, really.  
  
"I am truely sorry for your loss." The man nodded, congenially. "My name is Victor Milosovich, Mrs. Williams had asked that I discuss a few things with you."  
  
Things were moving like an ocean, waving back and forth... sound was muddled and hard to understand. Taryn wavered a bit in her stance, gazing at the little man, confused.  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"Her will, Ms. Locksly." The man smiled. A warm smile... "Mrs. Williams had asked me to discuss her will with you."  
  
"Oh..."  
  
Snap.   
  
Reality.   
  
"Right, then."  
  
Victor stepped forward to help her with her balance. "My office is right this way, just accross the street. It shouldn't take long at all." He went to take her arm.  
  
Taryn shooed his arm away with her hand, tossing her red curls. "I can walk just fine, thank ya, Mr. Milosovich." And with that she strode off ahead of him, pushing Nichola in the direction of the stubby little man's supposed office.  
  
  
  
Her shrieking, 30 minutes later, could be heard blocks away.  
  
"Bleedin' Everythin'?!"  
  
"Not... -everything-, Ms. Locksly. A few peices of furniture and airlooms will be shipped to distant relatives, no charge to you, of course." Mr. Milosovich said, beamining brilliantly enough to match his shiny bald head. He was a good man, Taryn noted behind her fit of shock. He seemed very pleased for her.  
  
Mother was up and astounded, pacing around the room, while daughter slept through her irish ranting. "But the house!" She shrieked again. "All the money!"   
  
A low-pitched chuckle sounded from behind a fancy desk. "That's right, Ms. Locksly. We can have the paper-work ready for you in about a week."   
  
"Jesus ever-lovin' Christ!" True, she wasn't one for strict reverance. She continued to pace the room and chew at her nails. This could be it, she was thinking wildly. This could be my way out of all of it... But just as these thoughts seeped their way into her mind, Taryn's eyes met Nichola's, and that dreaded reality once more faded back into view. It was then Taryn realized that although this gift could help her out of nearly any bind, it wasn't going to help her out of the one thing that mattered most: how to save her children.   
  
The following weeks were spent as a mixture of frantic scheming interlaced with mourning. Taryn hadn't felt this alone since she was torn from her family, what seemed like so long ago. Her determination to somehow salvage her immediate family was kicked into overdrive, however. The Ravensdale home was strewn with sketches and jotted ideas. Scrolls covered the large sofa in the sunroom, and Taryn herself spent a great deal of her time pacing back and forth throughout the house. Every so often a brilliant idea would pop into her head, and when the most minor of details would prove the plan impossible, she would collapse and cry the tears of a woman in the utmost distress. As if all of this weren't enough, time was drawing near for Adair's homecoming, and Taryn hadn't the slightest idea what she would do if he were to walk in to her, with her large belly and infant, drawing out escape plans in his living room. That simply wouldn't do. It simply wouldn't do at all.   
  
~*~*~*~ 


End file.
